


Chapter 3 - Home Cooked Meal

by epsentinel



Series: It's Complicated [3]
Category: Original characters - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: A little angst, Chapter three, Deductions, Developing Relationship, Domestic John, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex (in much later chapters), Eventual Slash (In much later chapters), Eventual Slash/Yaoi, Eventual Smut, Eventual Threesome (in much later chapters), F/M, Gen, Happy John, Home Cooked Meal, John Cooking, John Cooking Dinner, John being John, My First Work in This Fandom, Relationship Development, Romance, Romantic John, Series, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Intrigued, Sherlock Makes Deductions, Sherlock Underestimates Ari, Slight Culture Clash, Snark, Sneeky Sherlock, Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Work In Progress, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:59:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsentinel/pseuds/epsentinel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ari and John’s first date; a home cooked meal, prepared by John at 221B. Ari and Sherlock meet when he comes back from hospital and checking out Ari’s story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy the Third installment of "It's Complicated"! Any and all errors are mine and mine alone, since this is un-beta'd.  
> I decided to split the rather long chapters up even further into "Chapters" so that it's not so much to scrolls through. Hopefully this will make it easier on you to read. If you prefer the other format, please let me know. I'll go with whatever my readers prefer because I'm not really writing this for me anymore. ^_^ I'm writing this for the people who want to read it.  
> I apologize for not staying on my intended schedule for posting this, but RL has a way of kicking my feet out from under me. Be glad it didn't take me four years to update this. ~_^ I didn't update my LiveJournal for literally four years, but the people on here keep me coming back for more, even when I should be sleeping. ^_^ You know who you are!!  
> If you see any mistakes, please point them out and I will do my best to fix them as quickly as possible.  
> I plan to update in two weeks, but again, I make not promises.  
> Please enjoy the show! ~_^

**221B Bakers Street, London, England**

John was putting some of the final things for dinner together when there was a knock on the door. Before he actually made it out of the kitchen, it was opened by Mrs. Hudson, “Sherlock? John? John, dear?”

John smiled, letting his tensed body relax, and came around the corner from the kitchen, “Mrs. Hudson! Please, come in.”

“Oh, good! He’s here, my girl.” Mrs. Hudson smiled, “Don’t be shy, dear.”

John’s eyes widened as he saw a blushing Ari step tentatively into his flat, “Ari!”

She smiled, “I tried knocking, but no one answered. I texted you, but when you didn’t reply I knocked again. Mrs. Hudson answered the door and said she thought you were home . . . that she’d check.”

Mrs. Hudson took up the conversation, feeling a bit sorry for the obviously shy young woman, “I thought I heard Sherlock leaving earlier and I was worried you’d gone out together. I didn’t want the poor girl to be standing on the stoop until you boys got back . . . whenever that would be.”

John’s cheeks were reddening, “I didn’t hear the door. I’m so sorry!” John went back into the kitchen and grabbed his mobile off the counter next to the stove. He was back in a second as he checked it and sure enough, there were two texts from Ari and one from Sherlock. _I must have been in the bathroom when she texted_ , he thought ruefully, _I left it on the counter when I went and didn’t check it when I came back out_. _Oh yeah, the timer to start the rice had gone off._

The texts from Ari said “I think I’m almost there. Yep, I see 221B. I’m at the door. That was quicker than I thought. ^_^” and two minutes later, “John? I tried ringing the bell and knocking. Is everything okay?”

Sherlock’s was more innocuous, “Is there any coffee left? - SH” 

John looked up sheepishly, “I just got them.”

Ari smiled, “Well, at least I know you got them.”

Mrs. Hudson looked between the two and said, “Well, I’ve got my dinner in the oven. It was lovely meeting you Ms. Preston.”

Ari looked over at Mrs. Hudson, “Call me, Ari. Please?”

Mrs. Hudson smiled and patted the girls’ cheek, “You’re sweet. You’ll have to come by often, Ari.”

The girl beamed at Mrs. Hudson and shyly nodded, “I’ll try.”

Mrs. Hudson nodded, “You two have a wonderful evening,” and with that she went down the stairs, back to her own flat.

Ari held out a brown paper bag to John and said, “I know you’re supposed to bring wine when you’re going over to a person’s house, but I don’t drink and I don’t know anything about wines.” John smiled at her candor, “I didn’t want to get something nasty that no one would drink, so I got a sparkling cider.” With cheeks pink, she looked up hopefully, “Is that okay?”

John took the bag and smiled wider, “Yes, it’s wonderful.” John felt awkward and yet splendid, almost as if he were a teenager again, “Please, come in.” He stepped back and gestured with the hand that wasn’t holding the brown bag wrapped cider, “Dinner’s almost ready. Take a seat wherever and get comfortable.” Ari nodded again and stepped further into the room. John closed the door behind her and said, “I just have to check on a few things in the kitchen.” 

John was glad he’d cleaned earlier in the week after Sherlock had exploded something in the kitchen, again. For once the apartment wasn’t in too much disarray. The bookshelves were almost always hopeless, but the table that acted as desk, situated between the windows was even comparatively tidy. It held only their laptops, several neatly stacked books, a few case files, a few neatly folded maps, three small stacks of papers, and other small odds and ends. Even Sherlock’s books, boxes, and papers were in some semblance of order. Sherlock’s equipment and scientific accoutrements had been relegated to the higher, built-in marble table, which left the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen free to eat from. _Never thought I’d be glad he’d blown up the place._ John tried not to laugh at the thought, but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face.

Ari turned around from taking in the décor and said hastily, “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

John smiled at her reassurance, “I’ll be right back.” John put the sparkling cider into the freezer so that it would be chilled when dinner was ready and got down some of the better glasses. _Well, basically the only ones which aren’t mugs or haven’t been used for Sherlock’s experiments._ John had no wish to accidentally poison Ari by letting her drink out of something that might have chemicals in it. _Goodness only knows what kind of residue might be left in those._

John thought about the other dishes they’d lost . . . or more precisely the ones that had been exploded, broken, shattered, melted, burned, singed, or had something so foul or caustic in them that John refused to even attempt to clean them, let alone keep them in the flat. The catalyst to throw away the cups and other dishes usually started with the conduction of an experiment and ended with an explosion, or other result, in the kitchen or other part of the apartment, depending on the experiment.  John shook his head, trying to dislodge the image of one particularly messy and slimy explosion that had him attempting to get blue foamy goo and shattered glass off of almost every surface of the kitchen for several hours. John shuddered as he looked at the ceiling, remembering how it had dripped down on his head and felt somewhere between foamy soap and bird excrement. _I’m so glad we repainted the ceiling. I doubt we could have gotten the blue splotches out, anyway._

John wondered to himself how Sherlock got into some of the messes he did. John shook his head again, trying to shake the niggling feeling that his flat mate was up to something. _I should be glad for the fact that Sherlock isn’t actually here for dinner,_ but a part of him argued that it was better to know what Sherlock was up to, instead of being blindsided by it later. _Which can be far, far worse._

A timer rang out, startling him from his thoughts. He quickly checked the oven and reset it for ten minutes. Putting the pot of rice on the backburner of the stove, he swiftly turned off the front burner, and moving the potholder back to the counter.  With sure movements he took dishes from a shelf, silverware from a drawer, and napkins from the top of the cupboard to give it a more sophisticated touch, setting the table with three places. _Well, just in case he does actually come back for dinner. I doubt he’ll eat, but if there’s a chance I want to be ready for it._ John looked up once and caught Ari watching him out of the corner of his eye. He smiled to himself as he made a fresh pot of coffee, glad he’d gotten both coffee and milk at the store, earlier. He could feel his cheeks warming at her shy glances and attempt to watch him while still exploring the eccentricities of the flat. John wondered what she thought of the eclectic décor and the bullet holes in the wall. _Well, she hasn’t run screaming, yet. That’s a good sign . . . but too early to tell._ He paused for a moment as he watched her tilt her head slightly as she read a few titles on the right hand side, fireplace bookcase. With gentle fingers, she reached out and brushed a few leather bound books, a smile on her face. John smiled at her tenderness and reverence. 

John wished he could see her face as she turned to examine the bookcase next to the window, which held several insect display cases and shadow boxes. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding when she didn’t seem to be freaked out by it. He was surprised to hear a light chuckle and see a small shake of her head. He watched silently as she moved past the window, only pausing for a second to look out at the view. John did see her slightly confused smile as she looked up at the black bull skull hanging on the wall, adorned with a set of white headphones. He almost laughed as she tilted her head in the other direction and then back again, as if trying to figure out why it was even up, let alone the electronic ornamentation. She called over her shoulder, head still tilted as she examined the skull, “Interesting artwork.”

John did laugh this time, “Thanks. Most of the stuff is Sherlock’s, ‘though a few things are mine.” John heard an interesting ring tone go off. It was one he'd never heard before. He saw Ari fumble in her coat pocket to bring out her mobile. John almost hit his forehead at not realizing he’d forgotten to take her coat. Not wanting to seem rude or intrusive, nor wanting her to see his blush at his oversight, John turned around and tried to focus on finishing dinner.

Ari looked at her cell briefly before she answered it, "Hey, what's up?" John couldn't hear the other end of conversation from where he was, but he could tell that it was a women's voice on the other end, "Yeah." Ari paused as the speaker said something, "What?" John turned at Ari’s tone of voice. 

He watched Ari as she frowned and began to pace, _just like Sherlock does._

Ari’s voice went far lower than John had thought her soft soprano voice was capable as she said flatly, "Tell me." Ari didn't speak for quite a while as the person spoke to her. 

_That’s worrisome._ John’s timer went off as she still listened, looking unhappy the entire time. John worried about the conversation, but tried to focus on getting the meal to the table. _I hope it’s not anything serious._ He pulled the baking dish from the oven, smiling at the glazed chicken, which came out nicely. John surreptitiously watched Ari, almost burning himself on the pot of rice, which was still very hot, because he wasn’t paying enough attention. _She seemed to be becoming more upset with each passing minute_. He didn’t like to see people upset, particularly women. John frowned in consternation, not knowing if he should try to interfere and ask what was wrong, or if he should leave it alone.

Putting the chicken on an oven safe platter, John moved the baking dish to the sink and had it to soak in seconds. _Easier clean up for later._ He put the platter back in the oven and then pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven. He gently closed the oven door, so as not to disturb Ari’s conversation. John set the cookie sheet on the stove and carefully lifted a corner of the aluminum foil, to let some of the steam out without burning himself. He was relieved when the move worked and he didn’t get burned. _Small favors that worked; it doesn’t half the time._ He lifted off the now safe tin foil and tested the veggies with a fork. _Tender. Good._ John smiled to himself. _Dinner’s actually working out nicely. What a relief._ He pulled down another platter and used a spatula to put all the vegetables on it. He hoped Ari didn’t like her vegetables soggy, neither Sherlock nor he did and he’d prepared them to their taste. _I guess we’ll find out one way or another._

Finally, the speaker seemed to be done and Ari responded, "Okay. Yeah, I think I understand." Ari shook her head, "No, I'll handle it." Ari frowned more, "Stop laughing, Nina. This is not funny!" 

_Well, at least I know it’s her sister, now. Maybe it’s not too bad._ John started to set the food on the table, starting with the veggies, and continued to worry as Ari seemed to become even more agitated about whatever Zebina was saying. 

"I said, no!" John wanted to know what had happened, but a part of him had an idea. An idea that he didn't want to pull into the front part of his mind or let form to completion was inching its way forward as she continued. Ari’s voice dropped in volume as she said defiantly, "I'm staying and I'm not playing any stupid head games. You know I don’t do that crap!”

John raised his eyebrow at that comment, but was somehow glad at hearing her vehemence behind her words. _I hate mind games! Always have. Even the ones Sherlock does._

He had to strain his hearing to catch the rest of her words as she said even quieter, “I listened to you, now you listen to me. I don't care what you think or what you want. I like John and his roommate can feck off if he thinks I'm some kind of liar or psycho.” 

John’s stomach tightened as his suspicions were confirmed, somehow Sherlock was involved. _Damn! What did he do this time!?!_ A part of John wanted to reassure Ari that Sherlock meant no harm, but he honestly couldn’t say that with complete sincerity and he really didn’t want to lie to Ari. 

John didn’t like the next words that came out of Ari’s mouth. Something in how she said them made him wonder exactly what Ryan had said. “You tell Ryan to keep his nose out of my love life and I'll be home when I bloody well feel like it." He had a hunch it would make him want to give the bloke a punch in the nose if he’d heard it. John was torn as he tried to both listen and ignore what had become a heated, one-sided conversation.

 _Just keep busy! Get dinner on the table._ John busied himself with the mundanity of setting everything out. He pulled the chicken out of the oven with a hot pad and placed it on a trivet in the middle of the table. He moved the still hot pot of rice to another trivet and stuck a serving spoon in it. He smiled; proud that the dinner he had modified to fit Ari’s allergies had turned out so nicely. _Dinner is ready and the table is almost set._ John hoped Ari wouldn’t be on the phone much longer, _For_ _her sake and the sake of dinner not getting cold._ He made sure everything was placed so that neither of them would get burned by the hot dishes.

She paused, listening, and sighed, "Yes, I'll call . . . and text.” John retrieved another serving spoon for the veggies and a serving fork for the chicken. Then he got knives for each place setting and put them out as Ari looked over her shoulder, “No, John was just finishing up dinner when I got here.” He could almost hear Ari’s tension easing as she seemed to fall into easy conversation with her sister, “It was easier than I thought it'd be to get here." She paused, "Yes, I have enough for a cab." Ari sighed and John couldn’t help but smile at the long suffering sound it was, "I'll have Brett let me in, if you're still at the hospital. Okay?" Ari nodded to what Zebina was saying, "I will. I hope he gets better. They'll probably release him tonight, though.” John went to the freezer to retrieve the sparkling cider when the concern he heard in her voice made him pause, “Right?” Even though she was mad at Ryan, she was still worried about his wellbeing, which touched John. “It wasn't that severe." Ari listened for a few seconds, "Okay. I love you, too. I'll see you when I get back to the house." John opened the freezer and pulled out the cider, shutting the freezer without a sound. He watched Ari nod again, "Okay, text me when you guys leave the hospital." John could almost make out what Zebina said as he slowly walked the few steps back to the table. Ari’s smile lifted some of the frown from his face, "I won't. Love ya, sis. Talk to you later.” Ari's smile fell a fraction, "Kay, bye." 

John’s frowned was in concern, but he didn't say anything as he started to unwrap the bottle. John looked up as he was opening the twist cap of the cider to see Ari enter the kitchen area. He noted that her face was flushed and she seemed much more on edge than before the phone call. He hoped Sherlock hadn’t made too much of a mess. He wanted to know. . . _But do I really?_

Ari smiled awkwardly and said, “Sorry about that.”

John shrugged, “Nothing to apologize for.” He indicated the table, “Dinner’s ready. We don’t have to wait for Sherlock.” He made a face, “He probably won’t eat even when he gets back, anyway.”  _Although it is one of his favorites, so he might. He’ll also want a cover for studying Ari . . . if he’s interested that is._ John tried not to let his mind wander or run away with him, “I hope you like it, I had to substitute a bit because of your allergies. I’m not sure how it’s going to taste.” John noticed Ari had taken off her jacket before entering the kitchen area and that she wore something different from the clothes she’d had on that afternoon at the café.  

This outfit was a white peasant shirt that ruffled at breast and elbow with bright blue accent embroidery just around the very fringe of the sleeves and collar.  A light colored camisole could be seen peeking thru at various moments, which distracted the doctor tantalizingly. Her tan layered peasant skirt moved with her body, nicely. John vaguely wondered how it would look if she were to pirouette or twirl around, quickly. _Would it plume out, parallel to her body?_ The mental image had him smiling as she approached.

John was brought back to the here and now as he noticed Ari’s smile was a bit strained, but genuine as she pulled a chair back and sat down, “It smells delicious.”

John mentally berated himself for not pulling her chair out for her, but mentally moved on quickly as she was already seated. He smiled, impishly, as he sat down, “I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

“I’m sorry about you having to change things around.” John watched her face color prettily, “It’s something I’m used to, but most people don’t have to deal with on a daily basis.”

John shrugged, still smiling, “It’s a new experience. I’ve never really had to cook around someone’s allergies and I like new experiences.”

John poured them both a glass of sparkling cider, for once glad he hadn’t bothered to pick up any alcohol on the way home. He didn’t want Ari to feel uncomfortable and considering how Sherlock could get, he wanted to make the best impression possible upfront. He really liked how Ari had worn her hair. Some parts on the side were twisted back and held with a few small hair clips, while the rest was left hanging, surrounding her face in soft waves.  John hadn’t noticed how wavy her hair was earlier when it’d been pulled back, but with it falling down her back, it was something to be admired. 

John passed her both of the platters that held the glazed chicken and the mixed vegetables, smiling as the steam wafted off the food.  He was really pleased at how the meal had turned out. Ari and he served themselves. John was glad when he saw she didn’t take a tiny portion which most women would normally have gone for.  He was actually surprised when she took more vegetables than anything and made a mental note to ask more thoroughly about her food preferences. 


	2. Chapter 2

**221B Bakers Street, London, England**

As if they had been doing it for their whole lives, they were chatting easily, having portioned out the food on their plates. Ari smiled up at John, her face and body seeming to relax as they conversed. Their conversation turned to things other than food, relatively quickly. The main subject, as it turned out to be, being Sherlock, as he was one of John’s favorite topics of conversation. John found himself talking about his flat mate and just some of the minor antics he’d done in the past few months. Ari laughed and chimed in with a story or two of her own family and friends. John really liked how at ease he felt around her and how she seemed to respond to him. He hadn’t felt that in a long time and it was very nice. 

Barely having touched their food for the wealth of conversation, John watched Ari sit up straight suddenly. She tilted her head slightly, seeming to be alerted to something. John had seen Sherlock do that a few times and it made him take in his surroundings immediately. She looked up and turned toward the direction of the front door. John heard the footsteps a moment later and arched a brow as Sherlock came breezily into the flat.

Without saying a word, Sherlock took off his jacket, scarf, and shoes. John tore his gaze away from the blur that was Sherlock to watch Ari as she watched the consulting detective. John glimpsed a calculating, almost wary look come over her features.  Her eyes narrowed and he realized that her expression was very similar to one Sherlock occasionally wore. The similarities were almost striking as he realized Sherlock was more surreptitiously observing Ari as he nonchalantly rifled through one of the stack of papers on the desk. 

A chill went down John’s spine as he wondered what they both saw. As if by some unseen cue, Ari looked away from Sherlock. Sherlock put down the papers and strode into the kitchen. Ari smiled at John, reached for her glass of cider, and took a sip as if waiting for a signal to speak. She seemed to have decided something in the scant few seconds she observed Sherlock. 

John looked up to Sherlock as he pulled back the empty chair and casually seated himself, with his back to the windows. Neither one said anything, although Ari’s smile seemed to say, she wouldn’t speak until he’d spoken first. John could feel the tension rising, but wasn’t sure how to deescalate what appeared to be a battle of wills. He looked between the two and decided that the easiest way to attempt mitigating the situation was with an introduction. After a few more moments of silence, John finally said, “Oooookay. Sherlock, this is Arianna Preston, the woman I told you about earlier.” Sherlock’s only response was to raise an eyebrow as if to say, ‘duh.’  John sighed and waved in Sherlock’s direction, “Ari, this is my flat mate and colleague, Sherlock Holmes.”

Ari turned to Sherlock and looked at him. She scanned him from curls to chest, as he was already sitting down and the table hid most of his lower body. She smiled, held out her right hand and said, “Mr. Holmes, it’s nice to meet you. John has told me so much about you.”

With a quick glance at John that said, ‘What have you been saying, this time?’ Sherlock took her hand, shaking it lightly, “I’d say the same, Ms. Preston, but John hasn’t spoken much about you.”

Ari blinked and burst out laughing, completely confusing both men. They looked at Ari for several seconds until she waved her hand in front of her face, in a form of apology, as she tried to breath past the laughter. Ari picked up her glass of cider and took a quick sip. Trying not to cough on the sip of cider she’d taken, as the laughter still bubbled up, she put her glass down hastily. She gasped out hastily, “Sorry.” She seemed to catch her breath after a few more moments, “Sorry.” Her eyes gleaming, she looked between both puzzled expressions, and said simply, “I have a strange sense of humor.” She turned to Sherlock and realized she needed to explain further as she took in his careful expression. Ari tried not to burst out laughing again, just from Sherlock’s visage. Ari bit the inside of her lip before she continued, “Mr. Holmes, if John had told you as much about me as he’s told me about you, than I think I’d be a bit scared with the fact that he knew me so well.” She tilted her head, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

A small smile passed over Sherlock’s face as he finally understood her humor, “Possibly.”

Ari’s smile widened, “Oh, by the way, my sister said to say that it was very interesting meeting you at the hospital, today. She’s looking forward to meeting John, now.”

John watched Sherlock’s face become blank and knew he hadn’t exactly expected that comment, but somehow he had. Sherlock nodded and John watched him seem to examine Ari more closely, “She is a very interesting person. I look forward to talking with her again.”

Ari nodded, her face becoming a bit withdrawn, “She seems to feel the same way about you.”

“You’re very protective of her, even though you have no need to be.”

John watched Ari's face change drastically, becoming cold and hard. He vaguely wondered if his face changed like that when he was about to threaten someone. A dangerous glint flickered in her eyes as she said very quietly, "Think what you wish of me, Mr. Holmes, but do not ever threaten my family.” She seemed to consider something, weighing her words, “I also suggest you not accuse me of being a liar. Those are two things I cannot and will not stand." She stared into Sherlock's eye, "Am I perfectly clear?"

Sherlock appraised her as she squared off with him, the staring contest lasted bare seconds, but while in it, he realized that this girl was made of far sterner stuff than he first had estimated upon seeing her. He realized that he’d underestimated her because of her size and stature. _That was a very bad miscalculation._ He never should have underestimated her. He’d met her sister and she had been almost on his level. _Maybe even on Mycroft’s level._ Sherlock suppressed a sigh as his mind flashed through multiple connections and probabilities. _She’s not John’s usual type. He doesn’t normally go for the chubby ones._ Sherlock saw something in her eyes that made him rethink several of his tentative plans. _Interesting._ _She will not be easily manipulated . . . no matter how much she looks like a flighty, hippie wannabe, college student._  He nodded, "I believe you are, Ms. Preston."  Sherlock wondered what she saw when she looked at him. _Does she see what her sister saw? Does she think along those lines?_ He didn’t think so, but he needed more data before he could formulate a more solid conclusion.

She nodded acceptance of his reluctant and taciturn reply. Sherlock was shocked as he watched her facial expression melt away into a smile, "Ari, please. Call me, Ari." 

Sherlock briefly wondered if she were sociopathic or even psychopathic, with the quickness and ease in which she switched masks. _ Possibly bipolar._ Sherlock dismissed the thoughts quickly, as unsubstantiated, though he'd keep an eye on her from that moment on.

"I feel as if I already know you with everything John's been telling me about you."

He looked at John, raising an eyebrow, not sure if he liked the idea that he was telling yet another stranger about himself. He was rewarded with a slight blush, "I didn't tell her that much."

Ari laughed and put her hand on Johns arm, "You've talked about Sherlock for over half an hour." John glanced at his watch and his blush deepened. She turned to Sherlock, smiling, happily, "But I don't mind. I love stories."

Sherlock remained silent through most of the meal, eating mechanically as he kept a close eye on Arianna. Even though he didn’t need to eat, he did enjoy the food and the effort John have put into the meal: glazed chicken, steamed vegetables and rice. He knew John had fixed it to try and appease whatever temper tantrum he was likely to throw. John knew he did not like to have home or his privacy invaded.

To his surprise, Sherlock was intrigued as John and Ari’s conversation ranged from university to sports all the way back to Sherlock and John’s most recent case. The girl seemed genuinely interested in everything except politics, which she vehemently expressed her distaste for. Sherlock categorized how often she and John actually agreed on things. With a growing sense of unease, he realized that both were completely compatible, genuinely agreeing on almost every subject. A part of Sherlock spoke up then. _You’ll lose him to her. He could have a family with her. He could never have a family with you. She’s what he’s been looking for this whole time._   Sherlock summarily squashed that tiny voice, throwing it into the dungeon of his mind palace and threw the key out a window.  After dealing with the errant doubting voice, Sherlock went back to observing John and Arianna’s interaction. He couldn’t bring himself to call her Ari as she’d asked, but he knew that calling her by her first name would be enough for most people. Sherlock noted, _They’re both aroused by the other, eyes dilated, nostrils flared, faces flushed and it’s not alcohol induced._ Sherlock had observed that all either were drinking was the sparkling cider Arianna had brought. Sherlock was glad John had made coffee, though. _I’m not a fan of that stuff._   

Sherlock felt better as John kept trying to include him in the conversation. He was a bit surprised when he found himself dragged into a debate about the mythos of different cultures verses some of the modern tales that were being adapted for television and movies. To his utter shock he realized he wasn’t bored. In fact, he was actually enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had found someone with such a broad knowledge base, if a bit lacking on certain aspects.

Ari’s breadth of knowledge surprised him as she expressed connections he’d never thought about before. When their conversation meandered into theoretical physics, time space displacement, and time travel itself, he was partially annoyed, but mostly delighted.  He was surprised at how well defined Ari’s thoughts and insights into segments of that particular problem were. E _ven though she’s more than a little sketchy on the mathematical side of things_. She’d made some points that had him itching to start experimenting and wishing he had more of a practical engineering and hands-on type of personality. _I might have to draft out some schematics. Maybe Mark from that case could do some mockups for me._ He was delighted to have his brain spinning with probabilities and possibilities, including ideas on how to incorporate biochemical components into the problem of dimensional travel. 

Sherlock had to focus hard, putting many of the things she’d stirred up in his mind palace in rooms farther in, so that he could continue to observe the interesting creature John had brought home. What he realized was the most fascinating thing about Arianna, was she had no idea how absolutely intriguing she was. He could tell that almost immediately, just from her baring, she did not know her worth, her value, and Sherlock, himself had to keep reevaluating his estimate of her significance with each passing hour.  She kept surprising him, which is something he was not used to having happen from or by anyone, save John.  Sherlock realized his jealousy, which he’d done his best to ignore, was melting away in the onslaught of his appreciation of the young woman whom had captivated his flat mate . . . and to some degree, himself. 

With a slight sense of foreboding, Sherlock wondered how this game would play out. _Sentiment, definitely not my area._ He wasn’t so sure he wanted to find out how this situation would turn out, as he watched Johns eyes sparkle when they stared into Ari’s. _This could go very wrong, very quickly._ Sherlock looked at  John, _I don’t want to lose my one and only friend._ He looked back at Ari, an ache forming in his chest, _Please don’t take him away from me._ He was shocked to see Ari’s eyes flicker to his and a small, sad smile form on her lips, as if in response to his thoughts. He quickly cleared his face and glances at John to see if he’d noticed anything. He sighed in relief, internally, as he saw that John hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. . . _But she did. Damn. This is going to be harder than I thought._ Sherlock kept his expression schooled and as neutral as possible for the rest of the evening. 

He realized that he, himself could stay up all night discussing any number of topics and to his fascination, but both John and Arianna were showing signs of exhaustion. Even though Ari seemed willing to listen to either man go on for hours, only chiming in when she had a specific question or comment, Sherlock caught her suppressing a yawn several times. 

Sherlock was mildly impressed that most of her questions and comments seemed to provoke entirely new lines of thought within himself; entire directions that had never occurred to him. He could tell that John was reluctant for Ari to leave and he found himself feeling the same way. He’d never had someone stay so long in their flat that he wouldn’t mind staying longer, except John.  Even Mrs. Hudson could overstay her welcome, but he found that he really didn’t want Arianna to go back to her sister’s flat. He found that he wanted to stay up late into the night talking with her, getting her opinions on a number of different subjects. He knew she didn’t have the medical knowledge that John did, but she seemed to have something different, but just as important.

Sherlock wondered if Lestrade would allow her at crime scenes, but dismissed the idea. _She probably wouldn’t have the stomach for it._ He paused in his thoughts and reassessed them again, as her words about working in a Forensic Anthropology Program at her university and the following semester of working on the school’s “Body Farm” (or more accurately called a “Human Identification Laboratory”) returned to the forefront of his mind. _She’s not wet, that’s for sure. I wonder how she’d do at a murder scene. Something that hadn’t been dead for several thousand years, mummified for centuries, or perfectly preserved by embalming fluid. Probably throw up a couple of times, but most people tend to until they get used to the violence, smell, and gore._ He wondered why he kept underestimating her, but couldn’t seem to find a reason. _It must be a flaw in my observations, somewhere. There is always something, but it has been consistent with her. I must figure out the cause._ Sherlock knew he’d need time to sort through all the data he’d collected today. He caught the slight elongation of her jaw and intake of breath threw her nose as she suppressed another yawn. He smiled slightly as he realized that she was as reluctant to leave as both he and John seemed to be at wanting her to go.  


	3. Chapter 3

**221B Bakers Street, London, England**

Finally, John couldn’t keep from yawning, covering his mouth with embarrassment, “Oh my, sorry.” He looked at his watch, eyes widening, “Is that really the time?”

“John, you’re asking obvious questions, again.”

John blinked up at Sherlock, smirking, “Yes, I am. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

Sherlock had glanced at his own watch not five minutes before or else he’d have been wondering what time it was, as well. _Though, time is really irrelevant unless it is used to establish something in a case._ He smiled, lopsidedly, and was about to reply when Ari said, gently, “You both probably have work tomorrow and I have to get back to the house before Brett goes to bed. Or I won’t be able to get in until they release Ryan.” Both men stared at Ari, “I don’t have a key since I don’t pay rent and I’m only staying with Nina,” she explained.

Sherlock looked at John and they had an entire conversation through eye contact, which sometimes occurs between close friends or family. John was asking if he could invite her to stay, since it was so late. Sherlock didn’t want either of them to realize he wanted her to stay, so he shrugged somewhat reluctantly, going for gallant rather than resignation. John’s smile was more than enough reward, even if he hadn’t begun to like Ari. John looked at Ari who hadn’t missed any of the silent exchange, and said, “You could always stay here. You could sleep in my room and I’d take the couch.”

Ari’s eyes widened and Sherlock wasn’t at all surprised that he could almost see her libido written on her face, but a split second later the expression was schooled and only a sweet smile remained, “I don’t know what to say.”

Sherlock’s deadpan comment made both Ari and John laugh, “Say yes, so I don’t have to hear John complain he didn’t take you home and make sure you got there safely.” Sherlock wasn’t kidding. He knew John would worry about her until Arianna had assured John that she was safely back to her home and in bed before he would allow himself a wink of sleep. He didn’t want that to happen. _John needs his sleep._

Ari smiled, “Let me text my sister and I’ll give you an answer. Kay?” Both men nodded acceptance of that response and waited as she pulled out her cell from her pocket. It didn’t take long for Zebina to reply and even John could see Ari’s disappointment, “They’re releasing Ryan, now.” She looked up and Sherlock could see something he couldn’t quite define in her features, “They’ll be at the apartment before I will. So, I’ll be able to get in with no problems.”

John, feeling bad said, “Let me at least pay for the cab.”

Ari smiled up at him and Sherlock knew she wasn’t going to let him do it, she was far too proud, “That’s okay. I made sure I had cab fare.”

“That’s not the point, though. I mean . . .” John paused, not knowing exactly what he wanted to say.

Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes at how badly his flat mate was floundering. He momentarily debated on helping him, but just as he was about to speak, Ari put her hand gently on John’s arm, “Thank you.” Ari stared into John’s eyes, smiling, “I had a wonderful time.”

John’s smile became almost sappy, “So did I.”

Sherlock glanced between the two, realizing that if the table wasn’t between them, they’d be standing far too close for his comfort. Sighing, Sherlock pulled out his mobile and quickly pulled up the app he constantly used to make sure a cab was near Baker Street when he needed one. He ordered a cab and the confirmation was given, it would be here within ten minutes. He calculated mentally and nodded to himself. _That should be enough time for this excessive emotional stuff._

Ari rose from her seat, “I’d stay and help you clean up, but Nina wants me back as soon as possible. She has a paper due day after tomorrow and she needs to get to sleep soon.”

John waved her off, rising with her, “I wouldn’t hear of it. You’re our guest.”

Sherlock muttered, “His date.” Sherlock was rewarded by a smile from Ari and a slight scowl from John. He shrugged, nonplussed.

John walked around the table and Ari seemed to follow his lead as they matched steps toward the living room. Sherlock watched in annoyance as John’s hand brushed Ari’s as they neared the door and their fingers seemed to intertwine of their own volition. Sherlock was glad it didn’t last long. John helped Ari on with her coat after some small talk and walked her slowly down the stairs. Sherlock could understand the need to delay the return of boredom, but the sentiments being expressed were beyond ridiculous . . . and yet, something about the way John and Ari moved in synch made Sherlock’s chest tighten.  He watched silently from the top of the stairs as John walked her out the door and that’s where they paused. Sherlock moved to the window and regretted that he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He thought about opening the window, but knew it would be too audible and not allow enough increase in volume to risk being heard attempting to open it. _Unless I had something incredibly pithy to say,_ he paused, thinking and was slightly shocked at his results, _but I don’t._ Sherlock frowned at that thought. Normally he had volumes of sarcastic remarks at his beck and call, but at that particular moment he found none that seemed to work for the situation.

Sherlock sighed and reluctantly walked to his room. He’d have to read John when he came back inside. He stripped his clothes off down to his boxers and put his favorite robe on over it to keep the chill of the evening away.  He meandered back into the living area and flopped on the couch, placing himself so he could easily see John as he came back up the stairs.

He didn’t have to wait long. Putting on a mask of utter boredom, which he did not actually feel at all, at that moment, Sherlock surreptitiously observed his flat mate. _Increased breathing not due to exercise, marginally increased energetic step up the stairs, eyes dilated even more than before not due to light reduction, and a goofy grin spread across his face.  She said yes. He will be seeing her again, soon._

John all but bounced around the flat as he cleaned up the remains of dinner, but Sherlock just waited, knowing John wouldn’t be able to help but talk about it. As he finally settled down, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs near the fireplace, the grin that had come down a few notches grew once again to ear splitting proportions. He looked at Sherlock and said, “I asked her out on a proper date. We’re going to be meeting tomorrow for the art exhibit I read about in yesterday’s paper . . . then maybe dinner at that nice Chinese place over on Oakley.” Sherlock felt his stomach sink as he heard the excitement in John’s voice.  “Oh, she told me to give you her mobile number.” 

Sherlock tried to feign disinterest, frowning for effect, but a part of him was more than a bit pleased she wanted to stay in contact _and not just with John_. He asked for effect, “What ever for?”

John was watching his flat mate and smiled even wider, “She said she understood boredom and if you ever feel so bored you want to shoot the wall, give her a text or call.” John smirked, “Although, she stipulated that during a date with me was not an appropriate time to text or call unless it was an absolute emergency; as in if you were being held at gun point or someone was bleeding, etc. Boredom does not make the list of emergencies. Her words, not mine, by the way.”

Sherlock let his frown fall for a thoughtful expression, “Huh.” He shrugged, “Okay, text me her number and I’ll add her to my mobile.”

John did and leaned back into the chair, happily waiting for a text from Ari, telling him that she’d arrived safely. The stress of the day slowly began to chip away at the adrenaline high that had come with being around Ari and then Ari and Sherlock. John could feel his eyelids drooping as music ran through his mind, making him smile. “I think it’s time for this tired doctor to retire for the night.”

Sherlock nodded, absently, “Sleep well.”

John smiled, rising, “Thanks. You, as well.” He made his way to the steps and went to his room. Once there he emptied his pockets onto his bedside table, undressed, changed into pajamas, and slipped under the sheets, happily. He pulled his cell within easy reach of his hand and dozed lightly until it vibrated. When it did light up and vibrate, he smiled, reading the message. He felt his muscles unwind as he confirmed that Ari had gotten back to her sister’s flat in one piece. He quickly replied and then let himself slide into the oblivion of sleep with a smile on his face.

Sherlock was not as lucky as John in finding the oblivion of sleep. He felt his mind racing at all of the new experiences, connections, and ideas the Preston sisters had churned up in his mind. Sherlock made himself comfortable on the couch, closing his robe around his body, so the discomfort of cold wouldn’t distract him from sorting through all of the new data in his mind.  

He began the process of going through reams of information as he lay with his head propped upon the flag pillow.  Sorting the information and input took much longer than normal. He had to add several rooms to his palace, just to accommodate all of the new information, which wasn’t something he was used to.  After Sherlock sorted as much of the data as he could, he went back over the day with a critical eye, absorbing every minute detail. He was on a search to figure out why he had underestimated Arianna when he’d been shown how capable her sister was at figuring out who he was and why he was there. 

Light shone brightly in through the window, distracting Sherlock as a blinding reflection from a glass surface made him blink and have to reorient himself to the world around him. Sherlock blinked several times and looked around. _Morning already?_ _Huh, must have been analyzing data longer than I estimated._ He looked at his watch as he heard John moving around in his bedroom. _Almost eight thirty, about time for him to get up, even after the late night he put in._ Sherlock went back to analyzing the events of yesterday until he heard John come downstairs in his robe to make tea. He suppressed a smile at his flat mate’s consistent behavior. _I hope some things never change._


End file.
